Captain and Crew
by InVerbisVerum
Summary: Steve Rogers tries to get a ship and a crew. Among the folks he bands together are a rich boy exiled from home, a pilot who fought with the Alliance, and a fellow Browncoat who fought at Serenity Valley. They pick up fugitives, deal with rich boy's past, and cross a conspiracy leading to some Big Damn Heroes. MCU Characters in the Firefly Verse!


The blonde man with the sapphire eyes went around the bar and finally rested on his drink, which he quickly downed. He didn't know why but it was getting harder and harder to get drunk nowadays. An old brown jacket he wore was zipped up halfway and the rest of his clothes all spoke of the war he'd been in and the side he fought for. It was all some kind of brown with only a blue shirt underneath giving a hint of color. Near his foot beneath the table was all he owned, a canvas bag that held his few clothes and a few other personal effects, and next to it was a large disk with a canvas cover over the front and the rivets in it that lipped over the back of the disk were holding a rope that was tied tight, keeping it in place with the leather straps of the shield still accessible. Next to those was a green helmet that was made to come down and cover his forehead with two holes for his eyes, it bore the two dark brown bars that told he'd been a captain on the front. His face spoke of war, tired, hardened but not stone, his mouth covered by a blonde that led up to his parted hair of the same shade. As he drank down the last of the drink he saw a black man in a green shirt and jeans looking over to him. The man saw him and raised his bottle respectfully, the Captain now seeing the goatee on his face. The empty glass raised in his hand in a gesture that showed he was willing to drink to whatever they were drinking to, but had no more in his glass.

The black man chuckled and downed the last of his drink walked over with what looked like his travel bag. Canvas. Like the canvas the Captain had. Standard Issue. The man stopped at the table the veteran was sitting in, "Mind if I sit down?"

The veteran shook his head, "Not at all."

He looked the man over again and signalled for two more drinks to the bartender as the other man sat down, "You have a name, son?"

The man nodded, "Sam Wilson," he looked over the Captain, giving his next words some thought, "Sergeant, 58th Rescue Squadron, Independants."

The Captain's eyes raised in surprise at the man's words as the bartender dropped of another glass and a bottle which the Captain took and he spoke as he filled the first of the glasses.

"58th Rescue, you boys were called the Falcons, right?"

"Yes, sir. What about you?"

The Captain slid the glass across to Sgt. Wilson and started filling his own, "Steve Rogers, Captain, 14th Commandos, Independants."

He finished filling his glass and raised it, noticing the look of veiled surprise on the Sergeant's face, "To the Falcons."

Sam raised his glass against Steve's, "To the Howling Commandos."

They downed their drinks, and a few moments later Sam started chuckling. Steve looked at him curiously, "Something funny, Sergeant?"

Sam looked up from his laughter and smiled, "Helluva thing to be toasting the Falcons and the Howling Commandos on U-Day."

Steve smiled at that, "I guess so."

He poured drinks again and they talked at length about old friends lost and left, about the war, about what they'd done in the year since it ended. Sam had helped some of his buddies and some other Browncoats along with their lives after, drifting from one place to another and taking the jobs that he could, while Steve had been doing any hire work he could, whether hard work or gunwork.

"Sounds like you haven't had a place beneath your head for a while." Sam's remark was right on the credit.

Steve sighed, "I've been saving up, don't quite know what for yet. Maybe a ship, hauling cargo is looking like a good job now."

"You might be onto something there, Cap." He chuckled again, "Well if you need a first mate I'm not going anywhere, that last bottle broke me."

Captain Rogers looked the Sergeant before him in the eye, he knew he'd meant it as a joke, still…

"Alright, sounds good to me."

The Falcon choked as the drink went down the wrong way. He looked over to the smiling Captain between coughs, "You serious?"

Rogers kept smiling, "Yup. Think you can keep up with me?"

Another chuckle escaped between coughs, "I can do anything you can," one last cough left Sam's lungs, "though I might take a little longer."

Steve laughed to himself as he finished his drink.


End file.
